Frankie glanced around and, clearly not satisfied with their current level of seclusion, dragged Harper even deeper behind the big oak tree. “Look, Mrs. Peters plays poker with Aunt Luce, and she is cousins with Nate’s grandma. And ChiChi has the biggest mouth in town. If either one of them hears I bought a test, then I’ll arrive home to a baby shower. And then what if I’m not and everyone thinks I am?”
Harper saw the problem. If Frankie wasn’t pregnant or if something went wrong, she’d have to explain to the whole town what happened. That would be as humiliating as it was heartbreaking.
“Do you want me to take you to the doctor?” Harper asked.
“No, I want you to go buy me a test.”
Harper froze, stock-still. “Same problem applies here. I walk in there and ask for a test and the rumor mill will start sending out smoke signals about me before I get back to you.”
“Mrs. Peters won’t suspect a thing if you walk in there all smiles and goodwill,” Frankie said, a little desperate now.
“What if we ask Shay? She’s married. No reason for gossip.”
“Are you crazy?” Harper wanted to point out that no, she was not the crazy one in this party, but Frankie wasn’t done. “If Shay finds out, Jonah finds out. And since all my brothers gossip like a bunch of little girls when they get together”—Frankie shook her head—“it would be safer to take out an ad in the paper.”
Frankie took a deep breath, as if to center herself, and Harper could see actual tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t even know if I’d be a good mom. When people see me, maternal usually isn’t something they think. But Nate swears I’ll be the best mom, just like his, and when he talks like that I believe him.”
The confidence and love she heard in Frankie’s voice when speaking of her husband, and their bond, was moving. Inspiring. It made Harper want to find that for herself—with Adam.
Taking a deep breath, Harper said, “This is a bad idea.”
“No it’s not.” Frankie took her by the shoulders. “We’ll just make up some story.”
“You do remember I’m the worst liar on the planet, right?”
“I know, but you’ve got two blocks to work on your craft.”
With a twenty in her pocket and a smack to the butt, Harper was sent on her way. Five minutes and a creative story about running out of paint stirrers later, Mrs. Peters handed over a super pack of pregnancy tests with a suspicious grin, and Harper found herself standing outside a porta-potty, sharing a Pop-Tart with Blanket.
“What’s taking so long?” Harper asked. “The directions said two minutes. It’s been like ten. People are starting to notice something is up.”
“Two per test,” Frankie said through the plastic door. “I’m taking all three, which is why I needed the water. I still have one left.”
“What did the first two say?”
The door opened and Frankie peeked her head out. Then she held up the sticks and Harper felt a rush of joy push through her system. Because she was witness to the first-ever pregnancy confirmation by alpaca—and Adam was going to be an uncle.
Harper was magical. That was all there was to it.
St. Helena’s community park looked like a scene from Pollyanna. The night sky twinkled with lights, every oak tree and booth post on the property had glowing mason jars hanging from it. The picnic tables were covered with red-checkered tablecloths and baskets of various wildflowers, and they were overflowing with families and residents.
McGuire and Seth had handled the ladder raise like pros, Harper’s casino tables were a huge hit with the over-sixty crowd, and there wasn’t a single kid without some kind of face art and honorary firefighter’s hat running round. They’d already raised enough money to pay for Back-to-School Packs for every kid on their list, and the barbeque dinner, which had been smoking all day and sending off some serious mouthwatering scents, had yet to be served.
And dinner was the biggest moneymaker of the night.
This event was, by far, the best Beat the Heat Adam had ever been to. People had been telling him as much all day. Based on the way Chief Lowen was grinning in Adam’s direction, people had been telling him too.
“The chief was telling me that an opening came up for an incident command position in a special operations wildland firefighting team in Colorado Springs. He wants to send someone from our unit so they can come back and train our firefighters here,” Roman said. “It would be a six-month post, minimum.”
“Six months with those guys would be invaluable,” Adam said, thinking about the lucky SOB who’d get to go balls to the wall with some of the most elite firefighters in the country. He wanted to be that SOB so bad he could taste it.
“It would also mean getting six months closer to lieutenant, which is why I want to recommend you.”
And there it was. That addictive buzz that preceded a major rush. It started in his chest, pinching and gaining volume, then moved up and out until his entire body was intoxicated at the idea. “Thank you, Cap.”
“You did the hard work. I just want to acknowledge it,” Roman said. “Your experience as a smokejumper has given you the ability to evaluate the big picture in a matter of seconds, but the way you handled McGuire and Seth and getting everyone involved in helping with the event cemented that you’re a real leader.”